


Hurt Little Spider

by TastyBrownies



Series: Peter Has No Sense of Self-Preservation [1]
Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Human Experimentation, Hurt, Not Canon Compliant, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Torture, Whump, a bit ooc once you see the movie, and also i really like tom holland's version of peter parker so i had to use it, at least i think it qualifies as angst, but i wrote this before i saw it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-23 19:38:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11408850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TastyBrownies/pseuds/TastyBrownies
Summary: Peter gets kidnapped. He doesn't know how, but everything is painful, and Tony worries too much. (In Peter's opinion).





	Hurt Little Spider

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to write a bit of whump because, for some reason, it's a favorite of mine. Also, once I saw the movie I realized this is a bit out of character but I still liked the interactions and I absolutely adore Tom Holland's Peter Parker, so I kept it that way. Hope you enjoy it anyway ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> (Also, not beta'd)

Peter didn’t know where he was.

He opened his eyes.

How did he get here?

Everything was so confusing, but…

Pain. The pain was very clear. And it was _everywhere_.

His head felt fuzzy and weird, and his mouth felt like someone stuffed a bunch of cotton in it. The tips of his ears felt cold, but his ears were ringing, painful… Spidey sense, or something else entirely?

He had no idea.

But then everything was cold, and he couldn’t breathe, and it was _coldcoldcold can’t breathe help_ -

“Hello again, Spider…” Someone said, but it sounded miles and miles away because Peter’s ears were _pain_ and his lungs weren’t working right because he was pretty sure he shouldn’t feel liquid in that part of his throat. “How are we feeling?” The voice asked again. Peter wanted to answer, he wanted to say “I don’t know, I think I might need a doctor”, but what came out was a lot of water. And it was _everywhere_ , in his throat and in his nose and in his lungs and he couldn’t _breathe_ , so instead he coughed. He didn’t know how much time had passed before something was shoved onto his face, covering his nose and mouth, and slowly, he could breathe again.

But then the pain returned, and it was worse because he didn’t know what was happening, his head was fuzzy again and he didn’t know what’s going on, and then there was just black.

 

He opened his eyes.

Not again. He couldn’t go through this again.

He took a deep breath, trying to take in his surroundings.

Everything was still fuzzy. Drugs, then.

“Good morning, Spider.” That voice again. Peter tried to talk, say something, but his mouth felt numb, and it was a bit worrying because that meant the drugs were more powerful than he had thought.

He struggled against his restrains, but it did no good. His hands felt limp and weak, like overcooked noodles. There was something warm trickling down his neck and sides, but everything else was so _cold_. He tried to focus, tried to figure a way out of this mess, but trying to gather his thoughts felt like trying to catch fish in the water with your hands. “I might have to take another sample soon…” The voice said, and Peter shivered violently – because of the cold or the creepy, he still doesn’t know. He could hear somebody wheezing, and it took him too long to realize that it was _him_.

Something was very wrong. He healed fast- what could the owner of that voice had already done to him that made him numb and cold and wheezing? He tried to take a deep breath, to calm down, but everything was too foreign, too loud, the sound of water bubbling and something hissing, like a steam engine. And then there was something else, something scraping on the floor, and it felt like it was drilling through his ears and into his brain. Something escaped his throat and he wasn’t sure if it was a sound or more water.

“Now, now, don’t fidget so much, you might hurt yourself.”

Was he fidgeting? It felt like he wasn’t moving at all, just floating on the edge of consciousness. The voice murmured something to themselves, and Peter knew he had to use this to his advantage. He tried to look around, but everything was dark – he hadn’t noticed that before. Was he blindfolded? He couldn’t tell, and the more he concentrated on his senses, the more of his pain he could feel. His calf felt like it was on fire, but that was nothing compared to his abdomen, which was _screaming_ in agony. Everything stung like hell, his face felt swollen, and his scalp felt raw.

His arms were weak, like he just bench-pressed a truck full of hulks. But he had to get out, and that meant he had to get creative – even though it was near impossible to think with all the pain and the fuzziness and not being able to see. He knew one thing for sure, though – he couldn’t let the voice put a gas mask on him again. So, he mustered up whatever strength he had left and strained against the restraints on his hands. It took all he had in him to not scream out in agony. He could feel the bonds creaking and squeaking, until finally – his hands were free. His breathing was labored, but he couldn’t afford to rest. He felt around his face – yep, he had a blindfold on. He tore it away and got to work on the bonds around his legs.

He should probably have suspected the lack of Voice trying to stop him, or drug him, or both, but he couldn’t think straight, he just wanted to _get out of there_.

He got up on shaky legs, and tried to breath, but it felt like he couldn’t get enough air no matter what he did. Without thinking, he tore the mask away from his face, trying to swallow gulps of air. He looked around, but black spots danced around his vision. He stumbled forward in the only direction his spider-sense wasn’t absolutely _blaring_ at.

“Hello again.” The voice returned. Peter startled, losing whatever balance he had and falling on his back. He tried to get up, but his abdomen felt like it was being _ripped apart_. “You know, I don’t particularly appreciate my patients running away in the middle of a procedure.” Peter was convinced he could hear the voice laughing. He couldn’t stay here, he couldn’t be captured again, he couldn’t- “I think I might postpone said procedure until the patient is more… obedient.” It sounded way worse than it should have. Peter tried crawling backwards, to get back on his feet somehow, but something grabbed him and before he knew it he was face-to-face with none other than Doctor Otto Octavious, in all his hideous glory. Peter wanted so badly to quip, to say something, but he couldn’t get his mouth to work. “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” His arms stretched Peter’s body, making his entire body burn and scream and _everything is pain please stop_ \- “The drugs are more powerful than I thought. Excellent.” His metal clamps closed around Peter’s wrists and ankles, more and more, and it _hurt like hell_ and he could feel his throat burning, probably from all the screaming, and tears were streaming down his face because _it was all cracking, he could feel his bones splintering and cracking under the pressure-_

And then it was gone.

Peter couldn’t see.

He couldn’t move.

Somebody said something in the distance – not Octavious, someone else.

Peter vaguely recognized the voice, but he couldn’t do anything. It sounded like someone was talking to him through a tunnel, all echo-y and distant. Peter tried to focus, to at least show some sign that he’s alive.

“Kid? Kid, talk to me, please. I need you to- Just, just say something or do something.”

Peter wanted to cry. It was Tony. Tony Stark was here and he was talking to him and Otto was _gone_ and he was probably safe and-

“Oh, thank god.” Tony let out a sigh of relief. Peter must’ve done something then. His face still felt swollen, but now sticky and hot was added to the mix. He must’ve cried a lot. Somebody was whimpering. It was probably him, but he couldn’t focus. It was too much, too painful – everything faded to black.

 

When he drifted back to consciousness, he heard a faint beeping sound, and everything was very bright. He made a small noise of protest, and the lights dimmed down until he could open his eyes.

He was definitely _not_ at home. This place looked fancy, with a high ceiling and, evidently, lights that can dim without turning off completely. Where _was_ he?

“Hey, kiddo.” He heard a familiar voice.

“M-mr. Stark?” He stammered, confused. “What am I-“

And then it all rushed back. The drugs, Otto, his talk of _samples_ …

He shivered. He could only imagine what it was Doc Oc did to him when he was completely under the drugs’ influence.

“Yeah. Found you in some abandoned warehouse. How’re you holding up?” Tony sat on his bed.

“I-I’m fine.” His mouth felt strange. A bit numb, like after a visit at the dentist’s. Peter was still a bit awe-struck at the fact that Tony was _here_ , wherever here was, and worrying about _him._

“Are you sure? That… that was really rough.” Tony didn’t look him in the eye. Peter knew that look all too well.

“Look, I’m fine, and whatever it is that you’re thinking – It wasn’t your fault. I- I’m still not exactly sure what happened, but I do know that it _wasn’t_ your fault, Mr. Stark.” Peter insisted. Tony chuckled humorlessly.

“Yeah, well. Get some rest, kid.”

“Wait, no, I have to go back home.” He started getting up, but Tony quickly pushed him down.

“Kid, I don’t know what’s going through your head, but you _need_ to rest.”

“Mr. Stark, I’m fine – besides, I heal fast, so there’s no worry.” Peter swung his legs over the bed, stopped only by something tugging on the crook of his elbow. He suddenly got nauseous. He _hated_ needles.

“Kid, listen to me.”

“I just- can I pull this out? It’s making me sick, I-“

“ _Peter._ ” Tony said, and Peter stopped, startled at the use of his actual name, and not ‘kid’ or ‘kiddo’. “I know you want to get home and see your aunt. I know you’re worried, but we’ve taken care of that. Right now, you seriously need to let yourself heal right. Because what that guy did, he…” Tony cut himself off with a sigh.

“C’mon, it can’t be that bad. I’ve been injured plenty of times before. That won’t stop me from getting to May’s horrible date and walnut loaf.” He chuckled, but Tony shot him a tired, ‘don’t turn this into a joke’ look. Peter swallowed thickly. “L-look, I know my wrists and ankles got kinda crushed, and I know something was wrong with my calf and abdomen, but like I said, I heal fast, so-“ Peter was cut off by Tony’s humorless chuckle.

“’Kinda crushed.’ Kid, he splintered your bones. He-“ Tony sighed again. “Look, you’ve been through enough, it’s better for you to just rest-“

“No, I want to know. You can’t just- just act like I almost _died_ or something, and then tell me not to worry about it.” Peter wanted to get angry, but he couldn’t find the strength. Tony leveled him with a stare that meant he thought he was seriously going to regret this. He took a deep breath.

“Concussion, broken nose, two black eyes. The entire inside of your mouth was bleeding and raw. That maniac put some kind of spikey ball inside your mouth. Lips split open. Signs of dehydration, hypothermia, and drugging to the point of unconsciousness, which I guess you noticed. Third degree burns on your calf. Wrists and ankles splintered. Collapsed lung, severe contusions on your chest. And a stab wound in your abdomen, along with deep gashes all across it.” He clenched his fist. Peter nodded.

“So, a little worse than usual, but nothing my healing factor won’t take ca-“

“A little- A _little worse than usual?!_ Jesus, kid, what is the usual for you?! I should- I should ground you or something! That asshat _tortured_ you, do you hear me? It’s not just a couple of bruises from fighting, that piece of human garbage _tortured_ you and _used experimental drugs_ on you, as well as taking blood and almost tissue samples from you! This is _not_ normal!” Tony screamed. Peter knew it’s because he was worried, but he still flinched. Visibly, apparently, because Tony immediately drew back. “Sorry, sorry. I just- you were gone for more than a day, Peter, and your aunt was worried sick, and I can’t – I can’t just let you keep doing this if you’re going to get yourself captured and fucking _tortured._ ”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark. I’m not sure I even remember how it happened, but I promise I’ll be more careful next time.”

“It’s not me you should worry about, kid. It’s your aunt May.”

“I know, believe me, I know. I just- You know I can’t stop doing this.” Peter looked Tony in the eyes.

“Yeah, yeah I know. And I know there’s nothing I can do to stop you even if I wanted to.” He sighed one last time. “Now, I’m serious; get some rest.” He glared at Peter, and the latter nodded, and lay back in bed. Tony exited the room, and Peter drifted back to sleep.

“Did you talk to him?” Happy asked.

“Yeah, I did. But you know him. He’s more stubborn than I am.”

“Yeah,” Happy laughed, “And that’s saying something.” His laugh turned into a frown. “Is he gonna be okay, though?” He glanced at Tony, then looked back to Peter.

“You know him. I told him he was badly injured and he managed to quip about his aunt’s cooking.” Tony looked at the sleeping kid, and wanted to punch a wall. Such a _young_ kid shouldn’t suffer this. It just wasn’t right. “Honestly? He’s probably not going to be okay. But it’s starting to look more and more like an occupational hazard.” He sighed, just as Peter turned in his bed.

“Then the best we can do is just be there for him.” Happy put a comforting hand on Tony’s shoulder. They were silent for a long time.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Criticism is always appreciated - just be gentle, I'm fragile ^-^  
> (Also I'd greatly appreciate any and all title suggestions, I am very bad at naming things)  
> (Also my tumblr is tastybrownie)  
> [ Buy me a coffee :) ](https://ko-fi.com/tastybrownies)


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